


Marked by the Gods

by KeyPea



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Cute, Established Relationship, Freckles, Happy Gay Farmers, M/M, Neck Kissing, Post-Canon, Sunburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyPea/pseuds/KeyPea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spending a lot of time in the hot sun on their farm, Esca begins to get freckles, and Marcus sees them as the perfect opportunity to play a little trick on his lover. As usual, Marcus gets a whole lot more than he bargained for. Established relationship, post-canon one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked by the Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wagnetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagnetic/gifts), [christyimnotred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christyimnotred/gifts).



> Special thanks to wagnetic for the prompt of “freckles”, and to christyimnotred for requesting a domestic / cute couple fic. I hope I’ve done them justice!

Marcus was unashamedly making the most of the view as Esca, shirtless, pushed the plough up and down a small test plot. His skin was pale now, more used to hunting under the cover of forests than engaging in hard farm work out in the open, but given long enough in the sun and he would turn as bronzed and healthy as the nuts Marcus was lifting idly to his mouth. He reclined on an elbow, undressing the rest of his lover with his eyes, and wishing the plough-work could be over with soon.

It had taken Marcus a while to come to terms with his burgeoning feelings for his former slave that were beyond platonic. His tough Roman sensibilities had kept his emotions locked away, but Esca’s fiery spirit had won him in the end, just as he himself had won the man from the saturnalia arena.

Marcus had been so prim and proper with his freed-man on their journey back despite evidence that he very much wanted him, until one day an exasperated Esca, tired of making subtle advances, determinedly pinned Marcus to the bathhouse floor to claim his mouth in a most primitive manner. They’d swiftly moved the discussion to Marcus’ bed before discovery, the only witness to the consummation of their desires that afternoon being the golden eagle they were supposed to be dropping off at the senate.

The former centurion had been pleased to let the Briton take charge of the land where they’d build their happy home after that, satisfied that Esca was his own fully and truly, and not because a piece of paper declared it. The first few weeks had been tough, getting the run-down base Esca had expertly sourced into some sort of order, and they’d barely had time to spend enjoying each other, flopping into bed at night with no keener desires than for sleep.

Marcus swivelled his legs and shifted his weight to his other side, leaning on his leg scar almost without thinking about it. It had been weeks since it had ached, the farm work being demanding enough that there had been no time to worry about old wounds. Besides, the sight of Esca flexing his blue-inked muscles was enough to make Marcus forget all else as he ogled openly.

For the meantime though, Marcus’ chore was to prepare the wagon and horses to go into the market - he’d reclined lazily long enough, and there couldn’t be any rolling around in the hay with his lover until the hay had been fetched from town. Esca joined him as he rode the empty cart out onto the dirt road that would eventually turn into a cobbled one in town – Marcus’ one instruction for the farm had been that it had to be secluded enough that they would not be unexpectedly interrupted.

At the market, the necessary materials were bought quickly and arrangements for animals to be delivered made, before they could take their time meandering together. In larger Roman households, this sort of administration was left to the head slave or office keeper, but Marcus was no longer the young master of a large house, and he was quite content with his arrangement.

Esca patiently held a basket of wares as Marcus selected the best vegetables and kept a close hold on the money-bag, but his attention was distracted, as always, by the trinket-stall, and when Marcus turned with a lettuce to dress their plates that evening, he found his friend captivated by something round and shiny. Esca was always interested in the tribal artefacts such trinket-sellers would scavenge up, and Marcus supposed it reminded him of his old life, but what he was coveting now was something entirely different.

“Have you not seen a woman’s hand mirror before?” He asked, wandering over. The object Esca was turning over in his hands was extraordinarily beautiful in a Roman sort of way, with rigid carvings of orderly flowers on the back that didn’t look much like the true thing, but Esca was not interested in the flowers.

“Not up close,” he replied, puzzled at his own reflection. “There was no need for me to know what I Iooked like as my brothers would always paint my face.” Still, he did not put the object down as he usually did with a fading interest in anything that wasn’t useful for the farm, and Marcus found himself haggling with the stall owner to buy it.

“You should not have spent that much coin on me,” Esca scolded as they turned the wagon towards home again.

“For you I would go without meat for a week, sweet,” Marcus smiled as Esca clutched the precious gift to his chest, not letting it bump around in the back with the food bags. Until they had a properly established field, they’d have to rely on market-produce.

Marcus did the heavy lifting upon their return, shooing Esca into their cottage to rest after the plough-work. When he entered their bedroom, Esca was sitting on the end of the bed, still staring at himself in the mirror, fixated, it appeared, on some little brown dots on his neck.

“Why Marcus,” he exclaimed. “I have not seen these wretched dirt-spots marring anyone else!”

“Dirt?!” Marcus grinned, an idea forming in his head to have a little fun with the innocent Briton. “They are not dirt, they are marks from the Gods!”

“Why would they mark me?” Esca asked doubtfully, scrubbing his finger over them to make sure they would not come off.

“They appear when someone is thinking about you,” Marcus lied innocently, “and the Gods will sprinkle more on you as a signal until the beholder of your image pays sufficient attention to you.”

Marcus came over to kneel on the bed behind him and stripped the tunic off Esca’s shoulders, which looked red and felt hot still from the sun. “You are positively cherry-like, lover!” He laughed, knowing more ‘dirt-spots’ would appear there later; and Esca pulled forwards slightly, still worried by his freckles and determined to inspect them closely.

“I am not sure I want to be marked by your Gods,” he fretted. “What can I do about them?”

“You can let me worship them,” Marcus murmured, relieving himself of his own tunic and leaning forwards until his face came into view in the looking-glass. He took a hold of it carefully with one hand as he wound his other across Esca’s chest, drawing him back as his lips lingered over the freckles, breathing a sigh that tickled his skin.

Esca forgot immediately about his new toy and relinquished it in favour of arching his neck into contact with Marcus’ lips, letting out a contented groan as the Roman gently suckled the tendon there. He slipped off his yard shoes with his toes as Marcus shuffled him backwards up the bed, until there was room to lie on his side, trembling with the need to feel his lover’s kiss on his tender flesh again.

Marcus was happy to oblige, kissing each freckle delicately and deliberately, paying particular attention to the biggest, quivering over Esca’s neck-vein. “I would bet the Gods gave you this one when you nearly gave yourself to me on that bathhouse floor,” Marcus whispered hotly, practically feeling the rush of blood in the vein as it pumped south, his hand following it to brush over the front of Esca’s britches as he continued, “the Gods know I revisit that memory often enough.”

Esca whimpered something Marcus didn’t quite catch but the Roman took as an invitation to continue as he found his hand clamped down over the barely concealed bulge in his lover’s undergarments that matched one of Marcus’ own.

With no intention of taking his hand away, Marcus caressed slowly, covering every inch of Esca’s slender collar with his lips as his hand covered every covered inch below, slowly, taking far too leisurely a pace for the ever-impatient Esca.

The former centurion found himself flat on his back in less than a second as Esca straddled him, neck down by Marcus’ lips still, panting into the bedclothes and grinding their hips together even as he clumsily tried to remove the rest of their remaining clothes. “Don’t stop,” he gasped into Marcus’ mouth as he plundered it with his tongue, an order that Marcus certainly wasn’t about to disobey as he returned his lips once more to Esca's lovely neck.

As his lover enthusiastically set about sating them both, Marcus found he really couldn’t be sorry he’d fibbed about the freckles.


End file.
